knife pleat

“Stand the f--- away from the knife right now, man,” the cop says.

Pearson flung his knife and fork at it, having forgotten to drop those light weapons when he leaped up.

Black Sheep looked up at Harry's throat and then at a knife on the dinner-table.

A knife would hurt, but Aunty Rosa had told him, a year ago, that if he sucked paint he would die.

The servant-girl came up from the kitchen, took the knife away, and consoled him.

Black Sheep sat at the bottom of the stairs, the table-knife in his hand, and wept for that he had not killed Harry.